


To The Same Heights

by miyukigainsborough



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyukigainsborough/pseuds/miyukigainsborough
Summary: 'Agent Barton was sent to kill me...he made a different call.' What was it that made him go against procedure?





	1. Enter Spider and Hawk

**A/N:** This fic has always been sitting in the back of my mind throughout the years and I feel horrible having just dropped it. After reading through it again [and going through another big Marvel kick] I figured I would come back and revise it as I wasn't too happy with how I worked some pieces. This time around I will most likely not cover Budapest like I planned because I just was never able to figure out what I wanted to do for that whole piece of the story. As this is still MCU, there will be plenty of mention of Clint's wife. Yes, it's a Clintasha fic but there is a better plan for how the romance will work out in this than the last time.

Enjoy!

* * *

The clicking of black heels along the marble floor echoed through the hotel's lobby, working in tune with the sound of the luggage cart following right behind her, both sounds nearly drowning out the voices of those the slender female passed. Her long, red curls seemed to bounce with every step as she moved over to the front desk. The woman leaned against the polished marble of the desk and slide her sunglasses down her nose so her bright, green eyes could meet with those of the desk clerk. "Deluxe suite with a king bed for three days and four nights. Name; Petra Yanovna," she told him, her red painted lips curling into a kind smile as she pulled a credit card and an ID from the small purse in her hand and slid it to the man.

A more recent disguise, a journalist for a lesser known newspaper - the perfect identity for her target. Of course, she only hoped that she would get to reveal her codename to her victim right before their death. There was something about the look of fear in someone's eyes when she got to whisper the name 'Black Widow' in their ear before they perished.

The short, squirrelly nodded twice and quickly shot his eyes to his computer to confirm the reservation, unable to hide the blush that immediately formed on his tanned cheeks. The woman took this moment to scan over the people who stood around the lobby. CEOs, governors from the States, a president or two, models, a singer, and even a mob boss. That was where her eyes stopped. A tall, musculer man with dark, greased back hair and even darker eyes wearing a slick, navy blue suit standing at the lobby bar, chatting up a gorgeous, blonde model.

"Say," she started in a voice filled with false curiosity, "that is Sidor Konovalov at the bar, is it not? The CEO of the Konovalov Corporation?" Her eyes didn't move from the man, studying him more than a simple file had allowed. She had to avoid a light chuckle out loud as she mentally noted that he looked shorter than his dossier said. From her other side she could hear the desk clerk happily confirm the man's identity, adding in that there was an annual charity event being held at the hotel all weekend, that night being a large dinner and auction. It was said that it was Konovalov's first year joining them for the event.

' _And his last_ ,' the red head thought to herself before returning her eyes to the clerk and thanking him. Still a bit flustered, he held out her credentials along with the room key and tried to avoid her alluring gaze.

Nodding the bus boy to follow her to the elevators, she returned her gaze to Konovalov as she passed him - their eyes actually locking for a mere second before she pushed her sunglasses back up and turned her head away. She hoped her small glance would be enough to hook him and have him seeking her out later that evening at the auction. After all - it was enough to get his attention away from the lovely woman at the bar just long enough for a flush of jealousy to rise to her face.

* * *

She had the bus boy in and out of the suite faster than the younger male was used to, encouraging his speed with a two thousand ruble tip, and went straight into her planning. Her multiple suitcases were placed on the large bed and opened for her to dig through the contents. Casual and formal wear were pulled from the cases and placed on hangers in the closet, along with shoes and extra items that worked with her identity for the weekend. Her weapons remained inside of their suitcases but were quickly looked over to make sure she had anything and everything she needed. Even a quick check to her secondary passport and identification cards was made. Petra Yanovna would be in and out of the hotel but Natalia Romanova would be leaving the country.

She had three days in the hotel, time to watch over her kill and figure out the best way she would end his life and when. The same basic routine as many of her missions though she never grew tired of it. Every mission brought its fun and each ended in their own special way.

Stepping to one of the large windows of her room, she removed her sunglasses and stared out at the setting sun. She could already tell that this mission would be different than the others - and maybe even pose a little more difficulty. When she had arrived, a man sitting in the lobby had stuck out to her and when she had passed him, there was an odd, almost uneasy presence from him. There was no doubt to her that he knew who she was and why she was there.

* * *

"C'mon, Coulson. Just let me do my job." Clint Barton, dressed in a black suit, complimented with a black shirt and tie, walked into the hotel, hanging up on his fellow agent. If there was one thing he had grown rather tired of, was the constant handling of his seniors. He was still rather new to the job and, of course, it meant there was an exceptionally close eye being kept on him. He was a man of the correct procedure for these missions but...procedure was rather boring at times so sometimes he would differ in places. This added to some of the nagging.

He had been assigned to take out a rather dangerous assassin; the Black Widow. He had studied her file over and over since getting the mission, memorizing each feature, her skill set, and every service his bosses had documented. Part of him wondered if she had slept with any of the men before she killed them or maybe just the ones who had money. Clint shook his head with a laugh and adjusted his cuffs before removing his sunglasses, eyes scanning the crowd.

And there she was. Beautiful. More beautiful than her fuzzy pictures had led on - and that could possibly pose as a problem. Her beauty was different than his wife's; captivating and dangerous rather than gentle and welcoming.

"Head in the game, Barton," his whispered under his breath, taking a seat in one of the chairs placed comfortably in the lobby. Pretending to read the newspaper he had come in with, he watched her walk to the desk then eye the high and mighty around her. One man in particular seemed to catch her attention more than others and, with a check, he knew it was her target.

He waited, listening in for her room number then finally the sound of her heels trotting away. It seemed she had several days planned out and none were given any particular emphasis. He could believe maybe she would wait until the very last day to kill Konovalov then flee back into the shadows but anything was possible with her. One thought was certain though - his job HAD to be carried out before hers.

He didn't have a room - no, not at this fancy hotel, not this time around. What he had was a gun and his mission. Though the weapon was not what he preferred, it was the best in this situation and he was just as handy with it. So, he waited a while into the evening, around the time the charity dinner would begin, knowing she would be attending to get close to her victim. He would have to go up to her room and play his part there.

* * *

The elevator ride was horrendous, being mixed with horrible music and an awkward bell boy who thankfully got off one floor before him. Bus boy... That gave him an idea.

Once off the elevator, he quickly found her room and approached quietly, one hand on the butt of his gun. Once taking a heavy breath in and out, he raised the other hand and gave the door a knock before calling out in a heavy Russian accent, "Excuse me, Miss Yanovna."


	2. So, That Name?

"Excuse me, Miss Yanovna," a voice called out after a knock, "you left your ID at the front desk."

Natalia's head lifted, strings of loose curls falling into her face as she looked towards the door. It had been a good couple of hours since she had arrived at the hotel so being told just not that she had left something - well, it was obviously suspicious, especially when she could just glance over to the bed and see the very card he was saying she had left. She knew exactly what this was; the assassin was the target of an assassin herself. There was no doubt in her mind that behind the door was the man from the lobby who had been hiding behind a newspaper and keeping focus on her every move.

No matter what, she vowed to finish her mission.

"Just a moment," she called, pulling up her second stocking and securing it to the garter. She pulled on her strapless evening gown and walked to the door, thousands of different thoughts flowing through her head as she tried to figure out what she would do. Easily kill him and continue with her job? Or...maybe this could be her very last?

The door was opened and her serious, green eyes met a light shade of grey. There was barely a second between this as she quickly grabbed him and pulled him inside of the room. This was rather different for him. He, first of all, didn't expect her to be half dressed, and in no way, had he thought she would be dragging him into the room. His body tensed slightly, mentally and physically ready to counter anything she threw at him now that she had him completely alone.

"Your timing is wonderful," she commented with a gentle laugh, turning her bare back to him. "I can never get these dresses zipped up by myself. Would you be so kind as to give me a hand?" It was a dangerous move on her part but, just as she could feel the tautness from him, her own body was more than prepared to defend itself if he tried anything.

Clint's hand had fallen from his gun and instead, went to the zipper at her lower back, sliding it up and clasping the hook and eye at the top. Alright, that was a rather poor move on his part. He could have just as easily taken his gun out and finished the job. He should have...but instead just zipped up the dress, letting his eyes flicker up to look at her reflection in the mirror she stood before.

Her slender fingers ran over the curls that had fallen loose from her updo and she met his look in the mirror. Her smile was still there, false, a mask to hide the real woman behind the Widow. "You don't look like you're from any of the groups that have confronted me before?" Her eyes seemed to motion to the suit he was wearing. "A better disguise than most. What's your name?"

He looked down, avoiding her eyes now, his hands as steady as they could be in that moment. The brunette male moved around her and took a seat on the arm of a chair. First, a nervous itch came to the side of his face which he obliged before resting his hands on his knees and still avoiding looking at the lovely woman. He should have thought this one out a bit but, though he really didn't want to admit, he had been nervous about this mission since he was given the file on her.

"You mean you don't know?" he finally spoke up, a little humor in his own voice. "You've caught the eye of many agencies out there, Miss Romanoff, but we assume only the best could take you down." He dared to look at her once more. "I have no intentions of failing this mission, ma'am."

Natalia turned to him and took a single step forward, feeling quite small compared to him even though he was sitting down. "And I'm guessing you're the best in your agency?" She could believe he was the best - but she was one of over a hundred girls who trained from a young age to take the codename of the Black Widow. She had high doubts that he would be able to kill her easily unless someone had actually managed to train and become better than her.

Long legs brought her over to the bed and she took up one of the heels laying on the fluffy blankets. "So - that name?" she asked once more, slipping on the shoes. She was actually surprised she was speaking so casually with him as if he was a normal strangers and not an assassin ready to put her down. "You know everything about me. It only seems right that I at least know your name."

He watched her but only out of the corner of his eye. Everything in his training was telling him not to say anything but, for some reason, he did. "Barton..." Just his last name, nothing more. She would die at his hand so there was no harm in giving his name but it was that he had felt like they weren't enemies that scared him just a bit. Something was different about her but he couldn't tell what exactly it was.

"Barton...," she said softly, testing his name on her lips. Without her realizing it, the sides of her mouth had curled into a small smirk, a real bit of emotion that wasn't in any way faked. Giving a shake of her head, she moved over to the coffee table in front of the couch and took up a small, black clutch. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Agent Barton, but please excuse me. I have a dinner to attend."

That was when he snapped back into the reality that she was an assassin and he had a job to do. He should have pulled out his gun right there and finished it, but still, he ignored the obvious. She had managed to make his mind a jumbled mess with the small talk. "Hey, wait a second!" Instead he was on his feet and rushing after her, taking her delicate wrist in his hand before she could make it to the door.

Stopping, she kept herself facing the door for a moment as if having not heard him and some invisible force had stopped her. "Hm, was there something you needed?"

In a mere second, she had twisted herself, swinging a fist out to catch him in the stomach but he was just as quick as her, taking her fist before it could connect. He could see her red lips smirking in fascination. It seemed he really was just as good as her but she knew she had the upper hand. From there, she managed to shift her leg into his heels, knocking him onto his back. Resting a knee on his chest, she placed a hidden knife to his neck and met his eyes, cocking an eyebrow. "The best they have?" she teased before her expression turned serious once more. "Look, Barton, we both have jobs to do here...and I promise you will complete yours. All I ask if that you give me twenty-four hours to complete mine. If this is going to be my final mission, it's important to me that I get to finish it."

Almost frozen with shock that she had the upper hand now, he lay in silence as she spoke. It wasn't even like she was begging him to let her do it; more of 'You can either make this easy and agree or we can duke it out right here.' He brought his hand up and ran it through his hair, never once breaking his eye contact. Sighing, he replied, "Twenty-four hours."

"I knew you'd see it my way." She removed her knife from his neck and stood straight, returning the item to its hiding place. "Well, I am going to mingle with the rich and famous and get what I need. If you don't have a room here already then I give you permission to stay here if you wish. - Just don't go through my things." She quickly added in the last bit before giving him a small wave and darting out of the room.

The man didn't know what to think at that moment. He came to the hotel with the goal of finding and assassinating the Black Widow but instead, found himself watching her walk out of the room. They had spoken almost like they were becoming friend and she had even invited him to stay in the room. Was she trusting him or just playing a game? Sitting up from the floor, his eyes stayed on the now closed door and multiple curses came from under his breath. This definitely wasn't going by procedure. When this was all over and his report was filed, there would be some rather angry superiors.


	3. Into The Web

Natalia had done this routine so many times that she already knew it would work with no problems. She knew how to dress, how to present herself, how to speak; everything she did was her weapon in making a man fall into lust for her and Sidor Konovalov was in no way immune to her power of seduction. Just like she had read about him, he had a weakness to beautiful, younger women and she fit that category so it only took her perfect false identity, a few drinks, and some fake giggles and the CEO found himself more interested in her than the auction. He made sure to talk of his successes and spend large sums of money on bids to try and impress the woman, even offering to pay for her drinks for the evening [though she was making sure to only order nonalcoholic drinks.]

With her perfect choice of words, she soon found herself in the elevator with the CEO and his bodyguard, listening to him tell her of what his company would be coming out with in the next year while his slimy hand held onto her hip. Though he believed her to be listening, with her smiles and nods at the perfect moments, she was really thinking of her assassination plan. After having noticed Barton in the lobby in the early evening, she had immediately opted for a simple and clean plan in case she had needed to get out before the weekend was over. She wouldn't get to be there to witness the death of one of the most dangerous mafia bosses in Russia but the job would be done and no one would suspect her.

She was brought to one of the top stories of the hotel and straight to the presidential suite. Another flash of Konovalov's wealth for her which made her fight a roll of her eyes. Entering right behind her host, she noted the bodyguard taking a spot outside of the suite instead of joining them, obviously at Konovalov's command when he believed her to not be paying attention. She feigned fascination with the large and expensive room, giving a little gasp as she looked around. Though in true emotion, she brought herself over to one of the large windows and looked out at the lights of Moscow. Oh, how she loved her home country.

"Would you like another drink?" she heard the man's voice speak up. She turned back around to him and saw his tuxedo jack had been removed and placed on a nearby chair, making himself comfortable now that he had what he wanted back in his room with him. He motioned towards the mini-bar and started to make his way over to the collection of fancy decanters sitting in a line on the bar.

Natalia immediately moved over to stop him, stepping behind him and running her fingers over his shoulders affectionately. "How about you sit and relax and I'll get the drinks?" she cooed in a soft, seductive tone.

Konovalov let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders, adoring the touch from such a beautiful woman. He leaned his head back for a moment then turned to her. "That sounds wonderful, kitten." He placed a simple kiss to her cheek and wandered off to the couch where he sat and waited for his drink.

Once she had her back completely to him, her fake smile faded and she gave a disgusted look to nothing in particular. She valued herself a lot more than her superiors did and hated having to allow herself to be touched by disgusting men just to get to her goal. If she could get through a mission without having to sleep with her kill then it was a personal success to her. "So, please tell me more about your company. I find it all quite fascinating," she spoke up as she stepped over to the bar, using her voice to cover the sound of her opening her clutch.

As Konovalov went on about the company, Natalia prepped the glasses then pulled out her secret weapon. It appeared to be a black tube of lipstick but upon pulling off the top, revealed no lipstick and instead, with her swift hand, a clear liquid dispensed into both the liquor decanter and his own glass. A tiny smirk played on her lips before she cleaned up the area, switching to her fake smile and taking up the glasses. "Hm, you should give me a tour after this weekend." she said in her trained tone. She walked over to the couch and sat beside the older male, placing down the two drinks and keeping her eyes with his.

He looked down at the two glasses and, still being cautious despite his attraction for the woman next to him, took the glass that was closest to her. However, besides that one move, he didn't make it obvious that he believed her to attempt taking his life. He trusted no one no matter how alluring they were. His eyes stayed on her as he swirled the liquid in the glass, replaying. "Of course. I can even show you the places normal people aren't allowed."

She knew what he was doing, of course; waiting for her to take a drink from the glass that had been meant for him to see if it truly had been tampered with behind his back. Keeping her smile, she grabbed the other glass and took a sizable drink to throw him off. Bourbon - not what she had really be expecting despite having poured it but she drank it anyway. "Oh?" she chirped once finished, "Like what places?"

A deep snicker escaped from between his teeth and he brought the glass up. "I'll have to show you, kitten." He took a drink that rivaled the one she had taken and he was right back to talking about the factory.

' _Good boy,_ ' she thought. The poison she used would slowly work itself into his system and eventually kill him in one of the most common ways in the world, leaving his death seeming natural and her hands visibly clean.

* * *

Listening to a man rave on and on about how amazing he and his company was only grew to be a bore to her especially since her job there was technically done. The last thing she was going to do was sleep with a man that was already dead. Her eyes looked to her watch and faked a light gasp. "It's almost midnight?! I have to go!" She placed the glass down and took up her clutch, all in one motion as she stood from the couch. "I have an important piece to write and need it to be ready by tomorrow afternoon." The man followed her to the door, tipsy and near begging her to stay the night with him. "Oh, I wish I could but duty calls. Goodnight." She blew him a kiss and quickly escaped out of the suite.

She could breathe a sigh of relief once inside the elevator. Another mission just about completed without her having to crawl into bed with her target. Reaching over, she pressed the button for her floor and leaned against the wall. Her hand tangled into her hair and pulled it free from the bun, letting a wave of firey curls flow over her shoulders and down her back. That was one relief from the night. She couldn't wait to get back to her room and change into a comfortable outfit.

Back to her room...That reminded her of the agent that had been sent to kill her. She had offered for him to stay in the room but she wondered if he was still there. Would she walk into the room and find him watching television or would he be set up to attach the moment she returned? Only two floors until her questions were answered.


	4. Real Emotion

"Yeah, I should be back by the end of the weekend," Clint spoke into his cell phone, a pleasant smile on his face. He reached over to the coffee table in front of him and took up a full beer bottle, immediately putting it to his lips as he listened to the person on the other line. "I miss you too. I promise I'm being careful." It was just like her to worry about him every second he was away. Not like he had any real close calls yet. "I'll call you later. Get some more rest. I love you."

Once he heard the response from the other end, he hit the end button on the phone and placed it back into his pocket. As if on cue at that moment, he heard the click of the door then the sound of Natalia stepping inside, a bit surprised she was already back for the evening. He could hear her move over to the closet to toss in the heels she had obviously taken off when she was in the elevator. "Welcome back, Miss Romanoff," he greeted her, breaking the silence between them rather quickly. "Finish the job?"

Closing the closet door, Natalia looked towards the couch where Agent Barton sat watching a Russian reality show on the television. Stepping closer to where he sat, the coffee table came into view and she was able to see he had helped himself to room service while she was gone. Every item she had left on the table had been put into a neat pile at the end of it and the rest of the mahogany wood was covered with a few dirty plates and three beer bottles.

Her body shifted and moved to the bathroom, staying silent until she clicked on the lights and started to undress. "Konovalov will be dead in due time. I still have nineteen hours left, Agent Barton," she answered, letting the gown fall to her feet before being quickly snatched up to be placed on the counter. She expected some kind of response from the man but wasn't surprised when there was just silence from him. Of course there was nothing to say back to it. Nineteen hours left and he would end her life.

She turned on the sink and proceeded to wash the makeup off of her face, glad to be done with her nearly caked on disguise for the night. She didn't want to admit it but part of her was actually glad to have someone else's voice to hear besides her own. If he hadn't been there, there were multiple other voices she would have gone to bed with that night; Konovalov's whispering the disgusting things he wanted to do to her, the instructors shouting and keeping alive the memories of the Red Room, and the screams of the people she had hurt.

Clint stood from the couch and picked up his dirty dishes and empty beer bottle, moving over to the little, silver, room service cart that sat off to the side of the room. Once he heard the water shut off from the bathroom, he decided to speak to her again, "So, you have more in store for him tomorrow?" He placed his dishes and trash off to one side of the cart and pulled off the silver cover of the last platter, revealing a small cake with a cream-colored sauce over it.

Natalia stepped out of the bathroom, dressed down in a pair of grey sweatpants and a red tank top, and finally faced him. "You'll just have to see." Her voice slowly trailed off as she looked to the cake he had uncovered. "A Baba Romovaya cake," she said softly though it was just loud enough for the agent to hear her. Out of all Russian sweets the cake was her most favorite and, with late nights and busy days, she didn't have a lot of time to enjoy a sweet like it.

The male had picked his head up to ask what she had meant by ' _you'll just have to see_ ' when he noticed her eyeing the dessert. Though he had been trying hard not to show any emotion to the assassin since he met her those few hours ago, he couldn't help but to give a smirk at the innocent, almost pouty expression she was making as she stared at the cake. Clearing his throat, he picked up the plate and held it out to her as if it was meant for her. "I figured you'd want a snack whenever you came back." It was more than obviously a lie. He had honestly not expected her to come back until the morning and was going to enjoy all the room service he could get since it was on her dime - but something made him want to give her the dessert.

Cautious at first, she stared at him with confusion that only asked why he would do something so kind for someone he barely knew and was planning on killing in less than twenty hours. Still, she couldn't argue with his excuse, especially because she was exhausted, as she walked over to the cart and took the plate from his hand. The sweet scent rose from the food and hit her nose, making her want to just pick it up with her fingers but she kept her control and took up a fork.

While Clint moved back to the couch, she walked over to the bed and sat at the edge, diving the fork into the cake and putting a small piece into her mouth. "Do you have a room in the hotel?" she asked once she finished chewing and swallowing her food.

Clearing his throat, he made himself comfortable on the couch again and opened a new beer. "This fancy of a hotel when I'm not undercover? Not at all," he answered with a light laugh. "I'll head out and find somewhere to catch a nap when you go to bed." The agency believe the job would be done within hours of arriving at the hotel so a room was unnecessary, as he said, especially when he wasn't undercover. However, with the conditions now, he would need to stay awake to keep an eye on her anyway.

Natalia remained silent and continued to eat her cake as she listened to him speak, amused at how he had responded to her question. Once he went silent again, she kept her eyes locked with his for a moment before looking back down to the sweet and cut another bit. She fought back what she was about to say but found herself blurting out calmly [and with a mouth full of cake,] "You can stay in here if you'd like, Agent Barton." She brought her eyes back up to his and before he could really react, added in," As long as you don't try to kill me while I'm sleeping."

That annoying itch came back to the sides of Clint's mouth and he gave in, letting the smile appear. "I told you that you had twenty-four hours - and I don't break my deals." He could see her eyes widen just slightly in surprise at his response and she seemed to get a bit flustered as she hopped off the bed and walked over to the couch, holding out the plate with half of the small cake still on it. "You'll be able to rest fine with me in the room" he added, taking the plate from her.

Even she tried to keep her face straight but found herself giving a sideways smirk, finding to rather difficult not to with him smiling at her. "Thank you," was all she said before moving back into the bathroom to finish her nighttime routine.

* * *

Clint gave a groan as he sat up from the couch, noting to himself that despite it being such a high class hotel the couches were not good for sleeping on. His hand searched for his phone on the coffee table and, after nearly knocking over an empty glass bottle, found the button to turn the screen on. According to the near blinding screen [and the small amount of light trying to peek through the ivory curtains,] it was a little after four in the morning and, despite him wanting to only get a small nap to keep an eye on her, he had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the cushions.

The Black Widow had sixteen hours left and he estimated that she would be up in three or four hours, curious too of what she would do with her last bits of time. Was there still bits of her mission that needed to be completed? As far as he knew at that time, Konovalov had been taken care of already. Would she spend her last hours doing something she loved?

He looked over to the bed and saw the woman still peacefully asleep among the fluffy, gold covers. The light blanket over his body was thrown over the back of the couch as he stood up and stretched, tired legs taking him to the bathroom. He was still exhausted but knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep at this point. No, his mind was too busy thinking about every aspect of the mission - and just how human the Black Widow appeared to him than what the dossiers and whispers said of her.

Once finished, he stepped out of the bathroom and started walking back to the couch to sit in silence until Natalie woke up. However, a sound broke through the silence of the room and kept him from returning to his spot. Instead, the sound brought him close to the bed where she lay. It had been a whimper from the red head and once close enough, Clint could see that even though she was still asleep, she was crying.


	5. Twelve Hours

"What are you doing today?" Clint asked when he heard Natalia emerge from the bathroom. From his spot on the couch he could feel the warm steam that had filled the bathroom once she opened the door. It was just a little after eight and the only words the two assassins had said to each other so far were 'good morning,' He heard her mumble something that, with the distance from the couch to the closet, sounded like 'twelve hours.'

Looking over the clothes hanging up in the closet, trying to pick what she would wear for her final day, she cleared her throat and started to explain to him, "Knowing Konovalov rather well from my studies, he's sealed his own fate by ingesting more than enough of my poison at this point. He should be dead within a day." She removed a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt from the closet and debated on the two pieces. "I'm just going to take the day slowly and enjoy every minute. Maybe I'll take a walk through Moscow and get a final look at my country." Deciding on the outfit, she proceed back to the bathroom to change, leaving the door cracked to continue her conversation.

A walk through the city...Her final walk through Moscow. Why did he feel bad when he thought of this? She had killed so many people and he knew she'd kill more if he didn't do his job. There shouldn't be a ping of sympathy in his chest for her.

Falling silent again he shifted his attention to the breakfast he had sitting on the coffee table and couldn't help but scowl. Milk, juice, and both halves of a bagel each with a slice of tomato on them, enough for two people. He knew that breakfast wasn't one of the biggest meals of the day in Russia but it was still such a simple meal in front of him. Yet, that was what she had asked for as her last breakfast. He reached over and picked up one of the bagel halves, examining it like it was not of this world. "Can I go with you?" he asked before taking a bite. Here he had thought it wouldn't taste good but found himself wrong by the simple yet delicious flavor.

Natalia had nearly stopped in the middle of pulling up her pants when he asked the question. It surprising her that it had come out but she was quickly reminded that he only did so to keep an eye on her. Of course, don't let her go off on her own. It would be so simple to get a ride to the airport and leave the country. "That would be nice. I wouldn't mind the company," she replied with a small chuckle, feeling like a fool. Barton had a job to do and that was what mattered. He wasn't there to make friends with her and somehow save her.

Moving back into the main room, she met eyes with the male who had stood up from the couch, holding one of the bagel combo plates in his hand, much like he had done with the cake the night before. "You should eat before we head out though," he told her, stepping around to pass the plate.

Her body tensed slightly when he shifted closer to her, her eyes glancing from him to the plate then back again as if she believed it to be poisoned. However, he had made his point already that he was a man of his word so she could be safely eat food she had taken her eyes off of. In one shift movement, she took up the bagel from the plate and shifted around to start slipping on a pair of tennis shoes. By the time she had both shoes on and tied, her breakfast had been finished and she was brushing off stray crumbs from the sides of her mouth. "Are you ready?"

Clint looked to his outfit; the same black suit from the day before but he had come to Moscow without the intention to stay the night so he had nothing else to wear. It made him feel a little dirty and quite overdressed compared to her casual wear but it was something he was rather used to from bigger missions. "I'm ready. Twelve hours left," he quickly reminded her, trying to keep his own mind on the end game rather than let himself continue to get comfortable with her.

"That's right and that means we're wasting time." She nodded her head to the door while taking up the small, black clutch from the other evening. The only items she chose to remove from it was a black wallet and the room key. There was no need to have any communications with her boss. He didn't need to know she was playing buddies with an enemy and waiting for her death. No, he would have wanted her to kill Barton the first moment she got then immediately flee Moscow and return to the base. She knew it was time to face her sins and pay for them. She was tired and ready for it to all be over.

* * *

Upon stepping outside of the hotel, Clint could see the change in Natalia's demeanor almost instantly. A pleasant smile came to her full lips as she took in a deep breath of the morning air. The sky was nearly clear and the temperature was in the high sixties. It felt like a perfect day - to be someone's...last day...

"Where do you want to go first?" he asked, looking one way down the street then the other. He had only been to Moscow a couple of times before and, of course, never had time to really enjoy the city. It was more than obvious on her face that she knew the area very well not just from countless missions but from her own faint memories.

She didn't look at the agent when he asked his question, finding it rather humorous that he believed she would have a while day planned out. Twelve hours packed full of stores she had yet to visit, foods she had not tried, people she missed. "I simply want to take a walk to the Red Square," was her answer before she turned on her heel and started to make her way to her destination.

Clint remained quiet during the walk, she as well, allowing her to enjoy her time taking her final looks and it seemed she enjoyed it. He could see subtle changes in her expression whenever she saw something that triggered a memory. Sometimes it was good, sometimes bad, and sometimes she looked as if she didn't know how to feel about what was in her head. This seemed to make him feel another sharp sting in his chest. Another moment feeling bad that he was going to have to end her life when it was time.

Since the moment he met her, the Widow had really intrigued Clint. She seemed like a cold blooded assassin, no emotion for anyone unless it was faked to help her get what she wanted. However, even in the few hours they had been together, he had seen she was still just as human as he was.

* * *

His eyes never once left Natalia as she took small steps around him, admiring the walls and buildings around her. "It's been...years since I've been able to stop by here and look around," she said to him, her hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket. "I remember...," her voice trailed off as she wandered over to a lone bench and took a seat. "The memory is very faint but I remember sitting here with an older woman and tossing bread crumbs to the birds. I don't know if she was my mother or if she was just a woman working in the Red Room."

Her eyes closed, her chest rising with a deep breath, before they opened and looked to the high wall of Red Square. Her arm raised and she pointed to the top of the wall. "I killed a man up there. Well - it didn't look like I did it." His head turned back to her when she let out a soft chuckle and noticed that, even if it seemed humorous to her, her face was a little sorrowful. "I used a poison on his that drove him insane and, within a few hours, he jumped from there." Her hand dropped into her lap but her eyes stayed on that spot on the top of the wall. "I was sitting right here on this bench when he did it too. I remember feeling so proud of myself to have another mission where the blood wasn't visibly on my hands. That I should feel like that after watching that man suffer - I guess I'm a sick person."

He wanted to open his mouth and say something to her - but nothing would come out. He felt he had no place to respond in any way and he didn't even have an idea of what to say to her after that. She could tell upon looking at him that he was at a loss of words. Like he wanted to defend her but there was a part that agreed that she was a monster. "I'm not a saint for what I've done, Agent Barton. You know I've done a lot more bad than good for this world. I'm finally ready to die."

A silence fell upon them both, Natalia waiting to speak again and Clint unable to say anything to her. When she stood from the bench and started to walk away, he was up with her and following her quick steps. She didn't speak again until they were by the bronze statue of Kuzma Minin and Dmitry Pozharsky. "There are many things I've done that my death will make up for." Clint stepped besides her but was not looking at the statue. No, he was too focused on the woman's face filled with regret and sorrow that started, not at the statue, but into blankness. Lost in her memories.


	6. Regret

It was four in the afternoon.

It almost felt like Natalia had taken him all around Moscow in those eight hours. There was the couple of hours they had spent inside a small restaurant when they stopped for lunch. Though they had been exchanging stories throughout their walk around the city, during lunch things felt more comfortable. They stopped talking about past missions and moved into more personal things; hobbies outside of work, books and movies they adored, even small bits of childhood. Of course, there wasn't much on the last subject that she talked about too much - but there was a bit about a man who occasionally trained her in the Red Room that caught Clint's ear. He could sense the shift in her emotions when she spoke of this man but the agent wouldn't point it out.

Neither wanted to say anything about how they both oddly felt relaxed in each other's presence, not one feeling like the other was about to kill them. It was almost like they were close friends.

The timer on her deadline, though, was at four hours.

They had continued their walk in silence after lunch and soon found themselves back at the Red Square, at the bench they had first stopped at. They took a seat and his eyes were stuck on her, watching her lean her head back and take in a deep breath. Here and there she would shake just slightly and he knew it wasn't from the cooler temperature. The decreasing time was starting to hit her. Did she fear death?

"Agent Barton...," her voice started softly, "We both know I'm good at what I do. You wouldn't be here if I wasn't, of course." There was slight amusement in her voice for the moment before shifting back to it's solemn tone. "I messed up once...Sao Paulo - I was in the city targeting a heavy weapons dealer. It seemed to be an easy job. I found him drinking in a bar the very first night arrived and I used the same poison I slipped to Konovalov last night. A few drops in his drink and within twenty-four hours he'd be dead - from what anyone would believe to be a severe heart attack."

Her heard shifted to look over at him for just a moment, as if checking to see if he was still listening. "That was the first and only time I've ever made such a big mistake. That man - wasn't my target. He was a bus driver...a regular bus driver who's heart attack triggered during one of his bigger runs of the day." There was a shaky inhale then slow exhale. "I caused one of the worst accidents in Sao Paulo. It killed so many people."

Clint remembered hearing about the accident as it was the first time the codename Black Widow reached his ears. SHIELD had been keeping tabs on the Black Widow for awhile at that point, seeing if she really was as big a threat as they believed. The agent who had been watching her only had what he had seen - and to him, it appeared she had poisoned the bus driver on purpose. Her murder of an innocent man had put her name nearly to the top of SHIELD's top priority list.

Saying nothing else, Natalia stood from the bench and begin to walk in the direction of the hotel. He was quickly to his feet and at her side once more, though he felt like he was ready to collapse. The little sleep he had received and all the walking around was already starting to hit him. Sure, he was used to getting little sleep on missions but a string of near sleepless missions put with nightmare-filled nights, he was drained at that point.

The two assassins caught eyes and immediately she could see the exhaustion on his face. She had noticed hours before that he was tired but didn't want to say anything. She could already tell he would have just insisted no matter what to follow her around. Clint wasn't sure at that moment but he thought he had seen a small smile come to her lips before she looked away. The whole time they had been together she would show sorrow and pain but the moments of happiness were few and far between.

"Sao Paulo was tragic - but it was an accident," he found himself blurting out.

She said nothing in response, not even a look to him to confirm she had heard what he said. After just a small moment, she held her hands out in front of her and looked at them from front to back as if looking for stains from her jobs. "Not too long after I - 'graduated' from the Red Room, I was sent after one of the girls who had managed to escape and drop off the radar. It didn't take long to find her though and, as the best student, I was sent after her."

Natalia stopped walking and looked through the window of a small shop, admiring the trinkets sitting on display. "She had been hiding in a small hospital outside of Saint Petersburg and knew I would find her. As I fought her, she would speak of how the KGB brainwashed us to think of nothing but the mission - of the murders. Innocents meant nothing to us. Would I ever put the lives of innocents before my missions? I thought nothing of the taunts, even when I noticed she was trying to put distance between us and the hospital - until I heard the screams and explosions from the building."

Clint's eyes widened and his head dropped slightly. All she could hear him mumble was, "She knew you wouldn't save anyone..."

"Helping those people wasn't part of the job. I caught her, snapped her neck, and moved on."

The two fell silent again at that. He knew the story was over and there was nothing more he could say to her. She could live with everything running through her head but when she had to speak of it, which was obviously never, it was painful. Now, as they walked back to the hotel, he just stared down at the ground and let her take her final looks around.

* * *

Clint fell onto the couch in Natalia's suite and laid his head back, feeling like he could fall asleep the moment he shut his eyes. He was stronger than that, though, I would sleep only when everything was over. His dreary eyes watched the red headed woman walk over to the mini fridge and look inside. "At that point...," he began slowly, "there wasn't anything you could do for the people at that hospital. The lives lost was on her, not you."

He heard a chuckle come from her before she stood back up, bottle of whiskey in hand, and shut the fridge door. She remained silent as she pulled out a small glass and poured a bit of the liquor into it. Long legs brought her over to the couch and sat at the other end, her eyes not daring to look into the smokey grey that were his. "Always working alone and never wanting true emotional contact with anyone, I admit I was a bit lonely - until I made my first two friends, a young Russian mother named Irina and her three year-old daughter Nika. Whenever I had free time, I would visit them. They felt like a real family to me."

She brought the glass to her lips and let some of the gold colored liquid slide down her throat. Her face seemed to react slightly to the burn from the alcohol before she returned to her normal composure. "Alik Drakov, one of the most feared mafia leaders in Russia, wanted my head. I had killed many of his allies and cost him millions of rubles. He tortured and killed both Irina and Nika..."

Clint looked down to her hands which were heavily shaking the glass of whiskey and, fearing she would break it with her bare hands, he took it away and placed it on the table. As if she had been in a different world, her head snapped to look at him and immediately she continued the story. "I didn't give him any time to prepare for his death. After disposing of the bodyguards he had around his home, I found the bastard. I admit - he put up a decent fight but I have always been better. It wasn't a quick death."

There was a pained smirk on her lips showing she was proud of her work. "I dug knives into his hands, pinning him to the chair I sat him in. Through his screaming and crying, I told him about the lives he took; the mother and her child. When I grew tired of listening to him, I slit his throat and stood back to listen to him choke on his own blood. I wasn't satisfied until I watched his body go limp."

"But...he deserved it," the brunet barely managed to respond.

"In my blind rage, I didn't notice a small body standing in the doorway of that sitting room..." Pain and anger showed on her beautiful face and she eyed the glass sitting on the table. "Drakov's daughter...twelve year-old Valeria...She screamed, she cried, she tried to hit me. She vowed one day she would make me suffer just like her father had. That was the first time I ever really thought about the lives I effect when I kill someone."

Clint shifted his body, turning to face her, one arm on the back of the couch and dangerously close to her shoulder and red curls. "You only did what you saw was right to get revenge for two innocent lives lost. Every choice we make has some kind of consequence. It may not directly effect us but it effects someone. Sometimes we can never be sure what's going to happen at the end of a mission." He also looked to the glass of whiskey but decided against giving it to her just yet, still believing she would break it.

"Or what will happen during a mission." Natalia's eyes met his, finally pointing out what had been going on for the last twenty-four hours. Two master assassins, both enemies, acting like friends. She shook her head and looked away, wanting to already forget about the things she had told him. Her regrets always played out in her head but saying them out loud made her chest heavy.

She picked up the remote control and turned on the television, showing she was done talking about the things she had done. On the screen was an American action movie with Russian subtitles, something simple they could watch in silence. Just a few hours left until her death, she figured she'd relax and enjoy those final moments.

Clint had kept his eyes on her as she stared at the television and was starting to wonder if he really should go through with his mission...or if he should spare her. Heavy eyelids started to drop though as sleep began to take over his body. Maybe just a small nap wouldn't hurt. He knew she would not go anywhere so slowly he surrendered to sleep.

Just...a little...nap...


	7. Repent

Clint awoke and the hotel room was dimly lit, light only coming from the television and the setting sun through the curtains. He quickly sat up and looked around, finding that Natalia was nowhere to be seen. "You've got to be kidding me," he groaned as he jumped up from the couch. He jumped over to the bathroom and found it empty as well. Stepping back into the main room, he ran his hands through his hair and cursed again, "You've GOT to be KIDDING me."

His eyes shifted over to the large bed and saw that every one of her suitcases were there, aligned perfectly and stuffed to their capacity. Even the small bag of weapons was sitting with everything else. Did she flee the country without taking any items?

He charged from the room and into the elevator, nearly knocking over a bus boy and his luggage cart. Maybe she hadn't made it far yet. Maybe he could catch her. One clenched fist pounded at the wall as he watched the glowing numbers blink with every floor the elevator hit. His patience was running out and every time the elevator shifted to let someone on, he would quickly override the controls to keep going.

Once at the ground floor, he nearly sprang out of the cramped space and was right at the front desk. However, before he could say anything to the clerk, his eyes went to the black body bag being wheeled out of the hotel on a stretcher. "W-what happened?" he asked, though he had a feeling he already knew what it was.

"Oh, so sad," the older Russian woman spoke. "Mr. Konovalov passed away. His bodyguard said he had a severe heart attack."

He had been right. Natalia's plan was carried out faster than she had expected. "T-that's horrible - but, uh, have you seen the woman I was with earlier?" he practically stuttered out in semi-broken Russian.

The desk clerk nodded and replied, "Beautiful red head? Yes, she left an hour ago. Was walking in the direction of the Red Square."

Clint took a moment to think about it and rushed from the hotel and towards the Red Square. The streets were lit by lamps and car headlights and there were less people on the sidewalk then there had been during the day. The clerk had said Natalia had been walking. If she was going to the airport to flee the country then there was no doubt she would have taken a cab. Maybe he would find her right back on that bench staring at the high wall like before.

As he ran, he looked to the watch on his wrist and saw it to be almost nine p.m. Her deadline was an hour passed due.

* * *

"Excuse me," Clint spoke to an elderly Russian woman sitting on the bench he shared with Natalia earlier, "have you seen a young woman with long, dark red hair?" Despite his Russian being practically perfect, he still used his hands to try and describe her the best he could.

The woman gave a smile and nodded her head. "Yes, yes, I saw her. Beautiful girl. She went into the church a while ago. Must have had a lot to think about."

He thanked the woman and went straight to the church she had pointed to, hoping to find Natalia inside. Even hoping she had not taken care of the job herself.

Sure enough, when he entered the small church and looked upon the dark brown, wooden pews, there was the head of dark, red hair. She had changed from the jeans t-shit and was now wearing a knee-length, green dress. Her hair stood out even more among the shade of green then it usually did. Had some come to ask for forgiveness? Clint was quiet as he slowly moved closer to the back of the long line of pews. "What are you doing here?" he asked, cutting into the silence.

"If you were about to die, wouldn't you want to repent for your sins? I know I've done so much - but I hope there's a spot for me in whatever paradise is waiting on the other side." She stared up at the large cross at the front of the church. Never had Natalia thought of anything related to religion but she couldn't help but come to the little church when her deadline was up. "I take it - Konovalov has passed?"

Of course, while everyone in the hotel believed the head attack had been a natural cause, Clint had remembered what she had told of the poison she slipped to the man. To say he was impressed by the tactic was putting it rather lightly and he wished he could ask her about the poisons she had in her arsenal - however, their friendliness was over.

"Yes," was the only thing he would say on the subject. "Can we just...finish this?" His usually steady hands shakily pulled his gun from its holster and pointed at the back of her head.

Her eyes closed and she took in a deep breath as she slowly stood up from her seat. "Agent Barton...," she stopped and let a smile come to her lips before she continued, "Clint...can I at least say that you made these last twenty-four hours the best in my life?" She shifted, turning around to face him, green eyes staring straight into grey. Her face had tried to remain neutral but there was such a warm and caring smile on her lips and in her eyes.

There was a pain in his chest from hearing his real name come out of her mouth and seeing the soft look in her eyes. He wanted to tell her to close her eyes - to stop looking at him and reminding him of the hours they had spent together. He couldn't pull himself away from her mesmerizing green eyes. They were the eyes of a person who regretted every day of her life as an assassin. Regretted poisoning the wrong target and causing a deadly crash. Regretted turning her back on a burning hospital despite the screams she heard. Regretted letting her anger blind her and torturing a man to death before his own daughter. She wanted to do good.

Clint looked to his shaking hands then seemed to collapse as he fell to his knees and leaned against the back of a pew. He mumbled something under his breath that she actually couldn't hear. She waited, curious of what was going through his head at that moment, and kept her eyes on him.

After a moment, Clint got to his feet and laughed softly, a smile on his face that was nothing like the smirks he had shown throughout the day. "Are you serious about turning your life around? Repent for your sins?" he asked her. He watched her give a slow nod, still wondering where he was going with this. "I want to take you back with me. Join my organization and work with me."

"And...what organization would that be?" she asked, feeling as if there was less of a weight on her shoulders and her life was about to change.

With his handsome smile, Clint answered, "The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."


	8. Coup de Foudre

"You know - when I send you on a mission to take someone out, I mean **TAKE THEM OUT** , not bring them back to the people that want them dead," Fury groaned from his side of the phone. Clint could actually picture his boss sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples in frustration at the archer.

"Really, sir, if she wanted to continue what she was doing, she never would have agreed to come with me. Hell, she would have killed me the second I fell asleep," responded the agent with a light laugh.

"You lowered your guard around her?" snapped the Director in a stern voice.

There was a slight regretful chuckle from Clint and shrugged. "What do you expect after sending me on multiple missions back to back?" He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Not the point, sir. Trust me on this. If anything, make her my partner."

"A spider and a bird wouldn't make the perfect team." He could only admit that Clint had a point though. Her sharpened skills were remarkable and she would certainly be a great asset to S.H.I.E.L.D. - and if what Clint had said about falling asleep around her was true, then it only showed she was no threat. He had no reason to disbelieve one of his top agents and Clint's intuitions had not been wrong yet. "We'll go ahead and test this then. The two of you head to the airport in eight hours and catch a flight to Budapest. You'll meet Coulson when you arrive and get your mission briefing. This is her audition. I'll have Hill call Laura and let her know you'll be going on one more mission before coming back. Don't make me regret this, Barton." Clint could hear a click of the other line and knew the Director had hung up.

Clint shrugged his shoulders and gave a laugh. "She's going to have fun with this." Picking himself up off the wall, he stepped back into the hotel room and found Natalia stepping out of the bathroom, running a towel through her wet hair. She offered the shower to him and pointed to a robe that she had the front desk bring up. "Airport in eight hours. Your audition is in Budapest."

Her eyes widened just slightly, surprised a twenty minute phone call had ended with her getting a chance with the organization and not just another order to kill her. "Sounds exciting. I hope I pass," she joked, leaning against the back of the couch and wrapping the wet towel around her neck. "So we have some time to kill then - for lack of a better word at the moment."

He stepped over to the bathroom door and took up the robe that was hanging there, knowing he was a bit passed due for a shower. "How about room service and a few movies to pass the time?" he asked, tugging off the suit jacket he wore. "Or rather - what do you want to do?"

She had not really expected the question as it reminded her of how he had asked the same thing over twenty-four hour before when she still had a deadline before her death. There was relief in her gut this time though as even the tone in his voice was different this time around. "Room service and movies sounds good to me - but I get to pick the first movie."

* * *

It was definitely an interesting sight from within the hotel room; lights out, a movie playing on the flat screen television, and the only two occupants sitting on the large couch. Natalia was on the far left, sitting Indian-style with a bag of popcorn on her lap. The look on her face; complete and total fascination with what was on the screen. Clint, on the far right, was resting his elbow on the arm of the couch and his temple on his balled up hand. Despite being clean and comfortable after his shower and in the warm robe, the look on his face was complete and total boredom.

He had easily agreed that she could pick what they watched. Her trust was already gained but he didn't want her to think of him just as an ally and co-worker. He wanted to be her friend and, even after only spending a whole day and night with her, he should have known somewhat of the movie she would have picked. _'Walking The Streets of Moscow,'_ a seventy-eight minute long, black and white, Russian romantic comedy released in 1964. The moment Clint had agreed, she stated the classic movie.

After his shower and while waiting for their room service, Natalia's face was lit with a beautiful smile as she talked about the movie; how she had watched it while on an assignment much like the one they had met on. That first night as she watched the fantastic film and enjoyed her favorite Baba Romovaya cake, she actually felt like she wasn't just some kind of killing machine.

"It feels good to relax and enjoy someone's company," she had admitted to him at that time. She wasn't exactly emotionless and cold; she just never had someone to really share such emotions with.

Natalia had broken away from her movie to think about that moment before they had made themselves comfortable, how everything had changed for her in the span of a day - and she liked it. She slowly turned her head to the right and looked over to Clint. She wasn't even the least bit surprised to see the man bored out of his mind. She didn't take him for the romance movie fan.

As if sensing the eyes upon him, Clint's head turned to her and their eyes locked. Typical Clint would have looked away quickly and pretended to actually be enjoying the movie. Instead, he just gave her a smile; something reassuring, as if to say 'I'm still here' and seeing his boyish smile, her own soft pink lips curled into a smile before looking back to the movie.


End file.
